My Only Sunshine
by Total-Mental-Kase
Summary: Elle lives in the real world. There's no magic, no mythical creatures or people. Until the discovery of her stolen scarf reveals more than a thief. Just as she adjusts her world-view to match those of the neighborhood kids, an old enemy rises again with a sense of vengeance the Guardians haven't seen before.
1. Chapter 0 (The End)

The nurse smiles grimly. "Your grandma's in room 27A. Just down the hall."

"Thank you."

I never liked hospitals.

My footsteps echo off the scrubbed and sanitized walls and ceiling as I make my way down the hall. Fluorescent light bulbs. Over the years, I've come to detest them. They're the dullest of any imitation of the Sun anyone has ever had the stupidity to generate. Everything looks ugly and hopeless under fluorescent lights.

I don't even like the air in a hospital. It's stale with the odor of chemicals and latex, and it puts me on edge. I don't know if it's a marvel of technology or some form of black magic, but I'm always astounded to find each hospital heated to exactly "uncomfortable." No matter how cold it is outside, it always feels colder in a hospital. I could stand outside in 0o weather and it wouldn't feel any colder than "60o" hospital air. It's a rigid, lifeless cold. It feels wrong. Unnatural.

27A. The cold creeps under my muscles and grips at my bones. I take a trembling breath and open the door.

She's lying down, but awake when I come in. The heart monitor beeps to a slow, somber beat. Every _beep!_ is like a minute shriek and it makes the hair on the nape of my neck stand up. I don't like hospitals.

"Elle, dear!" Granma's greeting is faint and broken, but enthusiastic.

"Hey," I say quietly, smiling as I lean over her frail body to hug her. It breaks my heart to feel her return it— she's so weak. But no one expected her to even make it this far. It's been a decade since Granpa passed.

Beep!

87.

Beep!

She's 87 years old.

Beep!

87 years old, and finally leaving.

We both know it. We always know things like this. We don't have to talk about it. Never have. Her pale blue eyes twinkle from the time-worn folds of her still-beautiful face, harboring a smile of tranquility. It unnerves me. I know it's her time—maybe well past her time— but a part of me still doesn't want her to go.

"Elle," she says simply. The acceptance in her voice is enough to well up tears. "Elle, dear, don't be down. We both know it's time."

I nod solemnly, but I don't trust myself to speak. She takes a labored breath.

"Elle, you were always such a sweetheart. And before..."

_Oh, God, don't cry. Don't cry._

"...Before I pass, I want you to know. From the minute you were born, you were the joy of your father's life. When he and your mother passed..."

_God. Here I go._ The tears start going, but I act like I don't notice.

"Your grandfather was afraid we wouldn't be able to give you everything you wanted—everything you deserved."

Her tired smile grows, and she raises a thin hand to my wet face. I hold it there, trying to will my tenacity—my strength—_anything!_—into her.

"But no matter how dim things look, you've always been our little ray of sunshine. You never give up, even when no one would blame you—even when they would _insist."_

We chuckle a little, even through tears. She takes a deep breath.

"And I am _so_ proud of you, Elle. I know you're strong enough to go on without me. You're strong enough to do anything. I love you."

"I love you, too, Granma."

She sighs contentedly and drops her hand. She closes her eyes peacefully, and I study her for a minute or two, or maybe hours. I know the monitor must still be beeping, but I don't hear it. After a time, she opens her beautiful pale eyes and politely asks, "Dear, would you sing for me?"

I smile through fresh tears. I know. We always know things like this.

"Of course, Granma...

_"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  
_

_You make me happy, when skies are grey.  
_

_You'll never know, dear,  
_

_How much I love you.  
_

_Please don't take..."  
_

The beeps become a single, shrill tone.

_"My sunshine... away..."_

* * *

She left. And with her, my only reason to stay.

She said she was proud of me.

Said I was strong.

She had no idea.

I'm twenty-seven years old. I never moved away from my Granma. Even knowing pretty much everyone in this town, I don't bother with anyone other than a couple of kids—Well, I guess they aren't kids anymore—that I used to babysit.

I'm not completely ignored. I have coworkers when I have a job (which is never more than a year at a time), and occasionally someone will invite me to some kind of party, or a guy will ask me for coffee or something. But I turn them all down. It's not their fault. I'm just not interested in that kind of company.

I leave my (Granma's) car at the hospital and walk home. It's early December. It ought to start snowing soon. It's a long walk, but I feel like taking my time. I always liked to walk, anyway.

When I get home, I take a long, hot shower. I floss my teeth carefully and make sure they're spotless after I brush them. I apply my makeup, being careful not to use too much but making sure what I _do _use is perfect. I pick out my favorite dress shirt, white and collared, my little black waistcoat, and a pair of freshly laundered skinny jeans. I slip on my flats, and find my old, striped scarf.

None of it matters, but it seems like this would be an occasion to dress for. For a while, I can't decide whether I should leave a note or not. It doesn't really matter, either. But I decide to do it, anyway. It seems proper. I write two letters; one for whoever comes to investigate, and one for the kids. I seal and label them in envelopes and leave them on my dresser. They'll be found.

I take one last trip through the house, pausing and examining everything in every room, reliving every memory before turning off every light. Through the windows, I can see the snow starting to cloak the town. I make sure the front door isn't locked before I make my way through the dark back to my room.

I'm trembling from head to foot as I approach the balcony. I've left just one little desktop lamp on; it throws my shadow in front of me, out toward the moon.

_Of course it's full._ It had to be. Full, bright and cheery, it lights up the snowflakes like hundreds of stars drifting lazily to the ground. Of course. It couldn't happen any other way.

_"You are my sunshine… my only sunshine…"_

I step up onto the railing, keeping my balance with one hand on the wall.

_"You make me happy, when skies are grey..."_

I look down at the ground, glittering and white. So beautiful.

_"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you..."_

Now, it's _my _time.

"Why," you ask. Why would I commit myself to such an ending?

Well, for you, maybe it is the ending. But for me, it's a new beginning.

You'd like to know how I ended up here, wouldn't you?

I'll tell you.

**I think it'd be better if we started with me. **

**…If that's all right with you. It's **_**your**_** story, after all.**

Of course, Jack.


	2. Chapter 1 (Reunion)

**Okay, so where do I start?**

**Um… Burgess, I guess. **

**Burgess, Pennslyvania.**

**It's just a little river town. If you don't live there, you've probably never heard of it. But, then again, maybe you _have_ heard of it. It is my home, after all. I lived and died here 300 years ago. This is where the Moon saved me, made me Jack Frost.**

**This is also where Jamie Bennett lives. **

**Just a few months ago, he became my first believer, the first human to finally see me. He and his friends helped me discover my center and defeat Pitch Black—the Boogeyman—by turning his Nightmares into sweet dreams and reviving Sandman.**

**When I get there, it's already snowed a little. I frown, thinking that Jamie must have already expected me. **

**Then I shrug, thinking of all the things we could do this winter. _Guess I'll just have to make it up to him._**

**The Sun's gone, but it's not night just yet. The brightest stars are _just_ starting to peek out from the darkest parts of the sky. A strong north wind is keeping the clouds wispy and on the move. The Moon is fat and happy in the air, lining the town in silver and making the little drifts of snow glow softly. **

**It doesn't take me long to find Jamie's house. Heck, I don't think I _could_ forget where it is. If I'm still around in a thousand years, I could find the spot in an empty field where his house is now. Looking in his windows, I find him hunched over a desk in his room.**

**_Poor thing, _I think. _Probably doing homework._ I glide in silently. **

**"Hey Jamie," I say, hoping to surprise him.**

**But he doesn't move. He doesn't even acknowledge me.**

**"Jamie?"**

**For a moment, nothing.**

**Then, still nothing.**

**My stomach drops.**

**No. No no no no.**

**"Jamie!"**

**He doesn't turn around, doesn't say anything. But I notice he's shaking, now—_Is he crying? _I come around his side to try and look at his expression. He's bowed over his desk, face obscured by his untidy brown hair. He's definitely shaking.**

**"Jamie…"**

**That's when I actually start to hear him.**

**Sobbing.**

**No, wait…**

**The louder he gets, the more it sounds like…**

**Laughing. **

**He finally turns his face up to mine. His eyes focus on me. See me.**

**"Gotcha!" He exclaims, a wide grin showing off the gap where a front tooth should be. Before I can think about it, my hand flies up to my chest and I take a deep breath in relief. **

**Apparently, that's exactly what he wanted, because he bursts into even louder peals of laughter. Even through the fading fear, I find myself smiling. He got me, fair and square.**

**"That wasn't funny," I say, laughing involuntarily.**

**"Yes—it—_was!" _he gasps. He's barely able to stop laughing long enough to speak. "You- shouldn't—have—_waited so loh-ha-hong!"_**

**I raise my hands defensively. "I'm sorry, I've just been busy!"**

**His laughter finally starts to die down. "So," he wheezes, trying to catch his breath, "are you gonna be here all winter?"**

**I nod. "I'll probably take off every now and again, but yeah. North says I won't have to take being a Guardian too seriously yet, so I can still hang out wherever I want."**

**"So you've been hanging out with Santa and the Easter Bunny, still?"**

**"Yeah, doin' this and that."**

**"Well, what's 'this and that?'"**

**"You know, just popping between here and there. I've helped Tooth out collecting, seen Bunny at the Warren. Mostly been hanging around the Pole... Now that I don't have to try sneaking in, I think the yetis are _actually _starting to like me. I get to test the toys that they build, and the elves make cookies by the hundreds. North actually has this whole room for stuff he carves out of ice, it's really cool— oh, and _Sandy's Island—!"_**

**I'm cut off as we both hear a faint voice from downstairs. I can tell that it's Jamie's mom, but I have no idea exactly what she's saying.**

**"WHADJYA SAY, MOM?" Jamie calls.**

**"I said, 'Go get Sophie, please!'" she replies louder. "It's almost dark out!"**

**He groans, brown eyes rolling. "MOOOOOM!"**

**"Dinner's almost done" is her only reply.**

**"Darn it," he mutters under his breath. "You wanna come with me?"**

**"Where?"**

**"To pick up Sophie. She's at a babysitter's. It's just a few houses down. Then you can tell me about the cool adventures you've been having without me," he adds with a smirk.**

**He gets his coat and hat on, and we start walking down the street. The moon is bright and full and it casts long, sharp shadows all over Burgess. It seems to smile down from its perch in the sky, a contented Guardian over the children it shines on.**

**"So, when did you get a _babysitter?"_ I ask, still gazing at the Moon.**

**"Well, Mom kinda noticed when Sophie was gone for a day."**

**I turn away from the sky and frown at him. "A day?"**

**"Uh, _yeah,"_ Jamie replies with a "no-duh" tone, eyebrows shooting into his bangs. "When she got that snowglobe? She was gone a _whole day _before you found her and brought her back. Mom finally calmed down about it, but now Sophie's not allowed to be alone anymore."**

**I cringe. "Eheh… Sorry about that."**

**He nods. "It's fine. We just have to have a babysitter when she's not in daycare. This is it."**

**Like he said, babysitter's house isn't far. It's definitely bigger than his, though. Older. They even have one of those brass knockers on the door that Jamie's barely tall enough to reach. He raps it three times and I notice a matching brass nameplate above it.**

**LOCKWOOD, it says in bold, capital letters.**

**After a few seconds, a dainty old woman answers the door. Dressed in a flowery, very "old person" dress, her hair is a light grey, and her pale blue eyes look enormous behind thick, old-fashioned wireframe glasses. **

**"Jamie!" She greets. Her voice is raspy, but eager. She opens the door, and I bump Jamie's head with my foot trying to fly in before she shuts it behind him. **

**"Hello, Mrs. Lockwood," he replies politely, stroking his hair back into place. It's kind of pointless, though—his hair's always messy.**

**"They're upstairs, dear," she says, turning into what seems to be the living room. Two armchairs sit in front of a TV, which is showing some black-and-white program. I think it's _I Love Lucy._ One is empty, but I can see that the other is occupied by an old man.**

**Jamie continues straight without her, and I follow closely. As we approach the staircase, I look around. I kind of feel afraid to touch anything—everything seems so old and delicate. There're glass shelves filled with huge sets of matching plates, bowls, and tea pots, cups, and saucers. Every light fixture is a chandelier or an antique lamp. **

**The second we get off the stairs, Sophie comes out of some room running—sprinting—almost tripping over her own feet. She screams a childish scream caught halfway between fear and delight.**

**"_Jamieeeee!"_ she squeals, catching sight of him. A single lime-green eye is wild beneath her long, tangled blond hair. As she barrels full-speed toward Jamie, I notice a little paper crown is _just _hanging onto her head, literally a hair away from slipping off, and a plastic sword is in her hand. She somehow manages to not break Jamie's legs as she hug-tackles them. He wobbles hard, but keeps himself from falling over.**

**"NOT EVEN JAMIE CAN HELP YOU NOW!" a voice shouts from the room Sophie just ran out of. Sprinting like Sophie, a figure actually _does_ trip on her own feet as she appears, sliding and crashing against the opposite wall. In a few less-than-graceful moves, she's back on her feet and running at Sophie. Sophie turns away from Jamie's legs and, screaming in fear and joy again, charges for the babysitter.**

**Sophie's little toy sword catches her in the ribs, and she stops abruptly with an expression of mock surprise. She stands speechless, staring down at little Sophie, eyes wide like she's trying to look bewildered but looking more like she's trying not to laugh. She suddenly grabs the sword, holding it to her chest, and starts flailing around in melodramatic death.**

**"_The good and powerful Queen Sophie hath pierced the Jabberwock with Blade Vorpal!" _she wails theatrically. _"The creature writheth in agony as she cometh ever closer to her Maker! Death shall be her new master! Darkness her only solace!"_**

**She finally brings the scene to an end by collapsing onto the wood floor at Sophie's feet, saying flatly, "Lo, for I am slain."**

**There's a beat of silence before Jamie raises his eyebrows and says, "Hello, Elle" in a way that makes it sound like "I cannot express with words what a weirdo you are."**

**Elle looks up from her hardwood grave and shortly says, "Hi Jamie." **

**She's a teenager, decently tall (or long, since she's sprawled on the ground) and kind of lanky. She's wearing a loose, white tank top and black form-fitting jeans. Her hair is a dark, chocolaty brown, but with just a slight red tint, like Jamie's but darker. It's bobbed short, longer in the front than in the back, with bangs blending to form one thick curl on one side. She has a round face and a small chin, and her eyes are a deep but bright emerald green. At one moment, she looks like the perfect blend between Jamie and Sophie, and at another moment, she doesn't look a thing like either of them.**

**"I'm here to take Sophie home."**

**"Figured."**

**"_Awww!" _Sophie groans.**

**"Come on," Elle says, doing a clumsy somersault off the floor, "let's get your shoes on."**

**Hand in hand, they hunt through the upstairs rooms for her shoes, and then downstairs for her coat. I just following them with Jamie out of sheer boredom, waiting to get out. After just a few minutes, I notice when Elle asks (_asks_, not tells) Sophie to sit down to put her shoes on, she giggles and sits down. When Elle asks Sophie to zip up her coat, she looks all too thrilled to comply. Sophie happily obeys anything Elle requests. In fact, Sophie almost never takes her eyes off of her. It's kinda cute.**

**All bundled up, Sophie finally plods out the door with Jamie and me. "Bye, Ellie!" she chirps. **

**Elle smiles and waves, leaning on the doorframe. "Bye, Soph, And bye, Jamie!"**

**Jamie just kinda rolls his eyes, smirking to stave off a smile.**

**"And don't stay up too late!" she calls as they exit her yard. "You've got school tomorrow!"**

**Jamie shoots me a knowing look. I smirk in return.**

**"We'll see about that," I chuckle to myself.**


	3. Chapter 2 (Snow Day)

_AH! _

_AH! _

_AH! _

_AH! AH! AH! AH! AH!_

My alarm clock screams for me to get up. I hate that noise. It turns the lining of my stomach into ice and makes my brain buzz numb with panic. It's gotten so that even hearing it on a movie puts me on edge. I smash the snooze button with a harsh thumb, letting it know that I don't appreciate the racket.

"Auuugh…"

I didn't sleep well last night. It was another one of those times where I wake up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason at all. It isn't nightmares, it isn't an overactive bladder, it isn't restlessness… It's like my body just doesn't realize I'm tired or something.

But tired, I am. I shift in my blanket, slowly coming to life. A groan escapes almost compulsively as I remember the fact that I have to leave my bed to let my brain rot in school for eight hours.

_No,_ I think. _Just let me stay here. I don't wanna get up._

I sigh and wrap the blankets tighter around me, closer to my face. I let my mind go blank and I'm filled with a deep, warm numbness, my own heartbeat lulling me back to sleep.

But before too long, the alarm clock is at the top of its lungs again. I turn it off this time, sitting up and stretching my arms, legs, back. A tear-welling yawn stretches my ribs for me, and I look at the clock miserably.

No apology. No guilt. "5:47" is all it has to say for itself, diabolical thing.

I meekly pick out my clothes and get in the shower. It's all routine:

Finish waking up under the hot water.

Get out.

Dry off.

Get dressed.

Dry hair.

Apply makeup.

Floss.

Brush.

Jewelry.

Socks.

Shoes.

Bags.

Door.

School.

The same every day.

Today, I'm up to brushing my teeth as I sit on my bed and absentmindedly turn my TV onto the local news channel. The insanely minty flavor stabs into every corner of my mouth, a slight tingling distracting me from the reporter's words. I stare mindlessly at the male anchor's mustache as he speaks, wondering how he could've thought in a million years that it looked good that way. The regular sort of stories are rolling, but finally something catches me off guard:

School closings, scrolling along the bottom of the screen.

I frown, looking towards my window.

_But it wasn't even that cold yesterday._ _No way there's too much snow to have school._

I go to the bathroom and spit out my first mouthful of spearmint foam. Checking my teeth in the mirror, I decide I need another round. Brushing again, I decide to look out the window thinking, _I mean, there was a _chance _of snow, but how much could there really—?_

I nearly drop my toothbrush.

It's absolutely _gorgeous_ outside. _Everything_ is covered in snow. It completely covers the landscape in dips and swells, draped over the town like some beautiful, expensive fur.

But it's weird. There is SO MUCH snow. The lowest dips have got to come mid-shin, and the highest swells must come up to my waist. It's the kind of scene you'd expect after days of camping out in your living room, but not only did it arrive in a _single night,_ the sky is completely clear now. It's like a cloud just stopped by, dropped _Antarctica_ on Burgess, then remembered it had dry cleaning to pick up, leaving without so much as a "how's it going."

I just stand there for what seems like an eternity, drinking the scene in. Then a single thought starts to echo in my mind:

_Snow day. Snow day. __Snow day! __SNOW DAY!_

"SNOW DAY!" I cheer.

My mind is swimming with all the possibilities.

_Everything I could do!_ _I could make dozens of snowmen… maybe like the ones from _Calvin & Hobbes! _Snow angels, snowball fights… My God, with that much snow, I could make a snow fort like a castle! I could make an igloo! Oh, how good would it be just to romp through that fresh snow!?_

But, suddenly, my bed catches my eye. It seems to work a spell on me, my eyelids suddenly very heavy. It gives me a thousand apologies for its failures the night before, and promises me that it will make up for it. I laugh lightly at myself.

_Or, I could go back to bed (lazy bum)._

_"_Winter isn't going anywhere," I decide as I retreat into the covers again.

"Wrightsville… Youngwood… It's starting over!" Jamie announces excitedly.

**He woke up, took one look outside, and went straight to his TV. We'd caught the school closings starting with the D's, so we've been waiting for the whole list to re-air. Sophie bounces around energetically, too young to really understand but happy that Jamie's happy.**

**"Abbottstown… Auburn… Bristol…!" He says, coiling up with excitement. **

**I don't know what the suspense is about. There's **_**no way**_** he's having school—I made sure of that.**

**"BURGEEEEEEESS!" He cries, throwing his hands into the air. He sounds like a sports commentator who got a little too involved in the game.** **Sophie cheers, and all the commotion wakes up Abby, who barks in surprise. **

**"Mom, can we go play?"**

**His mom, who had been getting ready for work before coming in to watch the news, cocks an eyebrow at him over her glasses. **

**"It's not even seven in the morning, Jamie," she says, "and it looks like a **_**glacier**_** moved in overnight."**

**"Yeah, but—"**

**"**_**And**_** I'm going to work. The daycare's closed because of the snow, so you need to stay inside with Sophie."**

**"Well, why isn't work closed-because-of-the-snow?" he demands, bobbing his head in mimicry.**

**"Because we need the money," she says matter-of-factly. She bends and kisses him in the forehead, then smiles kind of sadly, cocking her head a little. It's the kind of smile moms give in place of "I'd change it if I could, but this is how it is and we just have to deal with it."**

**Jamie sighs, clearly not happy but aware that it isn't his mom's fault. He frowns at his feet and kicks them around a little, thinking.**

**"Can't **_**Elle**_** watch Sophie or something?"**

**Jamie's mom sighs in return. "I guess…"**

**His face instantly lights up.**

**"But you're going to have to wait for her. She's probably sleeping in, so don't go waking her up. Don't even think of leaving the house until 10:00, at the very least. Let her get her rest."**

**"Oh-kaaaay," Jamie moans, rolling his eyes. "Bye, Mom."**

**"Bye-bye, Mama!" Sophie chirps.**

**"Bye, guys. Have a good snow day."**

"ELLE!"

Jamie's voice jerks me out of my sleep. My eyes fly open and I'm instantly blinded by the hideous morning light. I yank my blanket over my head, but the damage is done.

I'm awake.

I groan, but it sounds more like a croak.

"_How_ are you still sleeping?!"

"Sleeping _again,_" I murmur. I don't think he hears me.

"It snowed last night!" he says, ripping my blanket off of my head. I start to question whether hitting a child is really outside my moral limit as I squint against the light.

"I know."

He points out the window at the tundra. "It's a snow day!"

"I _know,"_ I grumble, snatching my blanket out of his hand.

"Dontcha know what a snow day's for?!"

Right. Snowmen. Snowball fights. Forts, Igloos. All the stuff I was thinking about earlier.

"Not for waking up, I know that much," I say, pulling the blanket back over my head.

"Where's Sophie?" she asks.

**"Downstairs, I wouldn't leave her alone."**

**"So why'd you bring her here?" **

**From the tone of her voice, she already knows.**

**"Mom needs you to watch her."**

**She scoffs. "You mean your mom needs **_**you**_** need to watch her, but you want to dump the responsibility on me and go frolic in the snow."**

**I put a finger to the tip of my nose, as I pace around the room, examining all posters and whatnot. I take the time to really appreciate the fact that band names make exactly zero sense anymore. It used to be simple, named after the lead singer or something, but I can't start to imagine how someone could've come up with **_**Neon Trees **_**or **_**Panic at the Disco**_** and think "Oh, yes, that's what we'll call ourselves. Perfect."**

**At any rate, I just want to get out of here.**

**"Come **_**ooon!"**_** Jamie gripes behind me.**

**The heap of blankets doesn't reply.**

**Jamie makes a guttural moaning noise in frustration. "Aaaauagh… **_**Jack!"**_** he whispers harshly.**

**I turn away from the wall. He motions for me to bend closer, haunches his shoulders up to his ears, and, brown eyes wide with agitation, pleads, **_**"Cantcha help me out, here?"**_

**I look back at the mass on the bed, raising an eyebrow.**

"Hmm…"

Cold.

…

_FREEZING COLD!_

I yelp in a very undignified way and jump so violently I almost fall out of bed. Jamie doubles over laughing, almost in hysterics.

_He brought snow INTO MY HOUSE!? _This whole time, I bet he was just waiting for the opportunity. He wanted to throw it at me, I realized, but when I wouldn't come out—no!—he just decided to SHOVE IT UNDER MY BLANKET. One of my calves is now soaked wet with what remains of the snowball.

"YOU CRETIN!" I shout, throwing my blanket off of me and jumping off of my mattress.

He runs out the door, still laughing. I stop in the doorframe and watch him go down the stairs two at a time. I turn back, shaking my head, to grab my coat and scarf and whatnot. I glance at my alarm clock once as I walk out.

"9:53," it says smugly.

I take my time on purpose. Jamie's waiting on me when I get downstairs— bouncing around my front door, fidgeting in anticipation. I don't think I've ever seen him so excited before.

"Can I go, now?" he asks with all the impatience you could ever expect from an eight-year-old.

He's a scrawny, geekish kid with big eyes and shaggy hair that are almost the same shade of brown. He has a roundish face dotted with barely-there freckles, and when he grins, you can see the gap where he once knocked out a tooth (an _adult_ tooth, so it's never coming back). He's kind of a bookworm, and is usually very well-mannered, but at times (like now) you can glimpse a mischievous streak.

"Why are you so hyped up?" I reply as I come down the stairs. "Like you've never seen a little snow or something."

"A _little snow?"_ he says dubiously. "Have you _looked_ outside?!"

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "Go have fun."

Giving a short "WOO!" he bounces out the door, slamming it a little harder than he needs to in his excitement.

I stretch wearily for what I tell myself is the last time as I walk into the living room. Sophie, in her mismatched boots and multicolored coat, is plopped perfectly comfortable not a foot away from the television.

"You ready to go, Soph?" I ask, starting to wonder if there's ever a time _I Love Lucy_ isn't on.

Her hair is long, blond and perpetually messy. The part is zigzagged and changes every day. She only has half the bangs she should, looking like she cut the hair around her left eye herself, leaving the other side to grow wild with the rest of it. The tangled locks whip around her face as she faces me with a grin. One cute green eye gleams from underneath the mane, and she's up and bouncing like her brother before you could say "snow day."

I take her little hand and turn back to the door just as Granma calls from the kitchen, "Do you have your housekey, Elle?"

"Yep!" I exclaim. "Always do."

"All right, your Grampa and I will probably be gone before you come back, so there's food in the cabinets and food money if it's not enough. I'm puttin' it on your dresser."

"Sounds fine, Granma. Have a safe trip!"

And with that, we brave into the arctic.


	4. Chapter 3 (War & Pancakes)

**The whole day is lost in a snowball fight—or, rather, a snowball war. We play in pairs for a while, building and defending forts, using code names and made-up hand signals. Eventually, though, everyone gets bored with the forts and starts stalking and hunting each other. Pairs begin forming alliances, and from there it's only a matter of time before it's down to just two teams.**

**And that's where Elle gets involved. Until now, she and Sophie had minded the sidelines, enjoying the snow in more kid-friendly ways, like snow angels and stuff. But while they're working on the second tier of a snowman, one of Monty's snowballs goes awry and smacks Sophie in the back of the head.**

**Sophie starts to cry a little, and Elle drops to her knees to console her as Monty apologizes repeatedly.**

**"Of course, you know," she says once Sophie calms down, "_this_ means war."**

**And the snowball she returns almost _screams_ through the air as it narrowly misses Monty's head. **

**So Elle and Sophie join the fight, and the teams soon dissolve into a total free-for all, everyone throwing and dodging and getting hit in a chaotic grand finale. It goes on for hours before the kids start to drop one by one, faces red with cold and overexertion, huffing and puffing in the snow. Even I sit to catch my breath a little. There's scattered laughter and giggling as specific moments of the war reoccur to everyone.**

**"I'm hungry," Pippa groans after a while.**

**"You can say that again," Claude agrees. "I forgot to even eat breakfast this morning."**

**Jamie, Caleb, Monty and Cupcake all mumble in agreement.**

**"Well—" Elle says, picking herself off the ground and brushing the snow off, "my grandparents are gone, so ah…"**

**She reaches over her head and laces her fingers together, taking a deep breath and stretching her back. A few muffled _pops_ sounded from her coat and she releases the breath, lowering her arms again.**

**"I'm gonna make pancakes," she says tersely, shifting her shoulders a bit.**

**_"Pancakes?"_ Claude says. "It's like, four in the afternoon."**

**"Well, fine," Elle retorts, shrugging. "If you don't want any."**

**Taking Sophie's hand, she turns in the direction of her house, calling over her shoulder, "But if anyone else does, there'll be enough to go around!"**

**The debate between Jamie and his friends is short. None of them want to go home yet, and as Caleb puts it, "Hey, free pancakes!"**

**Now it's like a scene from the_ Pied Piper,_ Elle walking down the street with one kid on her shoulders and six more following her. She laughs, realizing how absurd she looks. Sophie doesn't understand what she's laughing at but giggles in support, anyway. She's the one on Elle's shoulders only letting go to try and grab some low-hanging branches. **

**"Snow Jack!" she laughs as she dislodges some snow.**

**Elle looks at her with a curious expression. Jamie looks at me, eyes wide with a slight expression of panic.**

**I give him a reassuring nod to say, "Don't worry about it," but he still eyes Elle and Sophie the rest of the way.**

**We get to her house and everyone sheds a few snowy layers of clothing as we come inside. Monty quickly finds the fireplace, and the kids have Elle start a fire before going to the kitchen. Soon they're all gathered around it, warming little hands and faces. **

**The fireplace is in the center of one long, narrow room, semi-separated into a dining room and a room that seemingly only exists for the grand piano at its center. The piano room has a hallway that leads under the stairs to the kitchen. The circle's completed by going from the kitchen to the living room, which is across the hall from the dining room. Each except the kitchen has a chandelier as the main light, with several old, expensive-looking lamps on shelves and cabinets.**

**The kids have just gotten comfortable—Sophie follows Elle into the kitchen, and while Pippa and Monty mess with the piano, Cupcake wanders around, inspecting the porcelain figurines and other antique-y things, and Jamie and the twins stare at the TV in baffled fascination. Elle emerges from the kitchen with a serving tray carrying hot chocolate. There's a chorus of "Ooohs!" and "Thank yous!" as she distributes them. She hands Sophie a few of the mugs so that she can "help," which she looks all but thrilled to do. **

**"So…" Jamie starts still frowning at the black-and-white programming, "why are your grandparents gone?"**

**"Going to a hospital out of town." **

**"Why?!"**

**"Are they sick?" Caleb asks, eyes wide.**

**"No, no, no." Elle says quickly, surprised by their reactions. "My grandpa's just having some tests run… you know, to make sure he's healthy."**

**"Oh…"**

**From there, the kids start firing off questions like they had rehearsed it:**

**Claude: "So, why do they have to go out of town?"**

**Jamie: "Yeah, why don't they just use this hospital?"**

**"I… don't know, exactly. Complicated insurance stuff."**

**Claude: "Why don't you go with them?"**

**"I don't like hospitals."**

**Cupcake: "What's that supposed to mean?"**

**"They just… give me the creeps."**

**Pippa: "So, what?"**

**Monty: "They just leave you _alone?"_**

**"Well, yeah, I can take care of myself—"**

**Jamie: "But why—?"**

**"Why do you guys ask so many questions?"**

**Claude: "We're _kids."_**

**Cupcake: "It's what we do."**

**Elle furrows her brow and opens her mouth, but closes it without saying anything. **

**"Pancakes~!" she announces a short time later. The boys file into the dining room with Monty, Pippa and Cupcake. She carries a comically huge pile of them in one hand and a fistful of silverware in the other, Sophie toddling after her with a stack of plates.**

**Everything's distributed, a plate and fork and two or three huge, fluffy pancakes for each kid. Elle fixes Sophie's plate for her, cutting her pancakes in irregular little triangles as the others squabble over who has the syrup and don't use it all and PASS IT WHEN YOU'RE DONE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.**

**Eventually, though, they get settled in and the house gets a lot quieter as most of the kids stuff their faces. Elle leans in the wide doorway (or is it a partial wall?) between the dining room and piano room, face pulled in a closed, satisfied smile. **

**Mouth full, Jamie murfurs something like, "Arf oo goih-ee?" **

**My best guess: "Aren't you going to eat?"**

**"Already did," she replies. "I eat all the duds when I make pancakes."**

**"Duf?" he asks, a chunk of pancake flying out of his mouth.**

**Elle snorts a little. "Maybe you oughta not talk when your mouth's full. But yeah, I eat all the deformed ones while I'm cooking."**

**"Well, these are delicious," Cupcake says before taking another dripping bite.**

**"Oh, _thank you," _she says with that signature melodrama_. "_I simply _pour_ my heart and soul into the premixed batter. I handpicked the syrup from the store shelves, too." **

**There's a knock at the door a while later, just as Elle disappears into the kitchen with all the dishes. I look out the window to see a blond guy, probably in his early twenties, standing outside the door.**

**"Monty!" I call. "I think your brother's here!"**

**Monty reluctantly leaves with him, and soon after the twins are picked up by their mom Pippa's dad calls her cell phone (I didn't even know she had one), and Cupcake leaves with her, saying something about a slumber party. **

**"Bye, guys!" Elle calls as we take our own leave. "Don't play in traffic!"**

**"Hey, Jack?" Jamie says once we're out of earshot. "I was wondering something."**

**"What?" **

**I'm idly icing down the pavement as we walk, making the fernlike frost curl and spread under the hook of my staff. Someone's definitely going to slip on that. I smile at the thought.**

**"See, um… over the summer I was reading about you."**

**I look away from my troublemaking, face slack in surprise.**

**"'Cause I only knew about you because my mom said something about 'nipping at my nose,'" he continues, "and I knew all about Santa and the Easter Bunny and stuff, so I got some books."**

**"What'd they say?" I ask. **

**"They weren't right," he says with a frown. "Like, almost _none_ of them."**

**"Well, _what'd they say?"_**

**"Well, most of them said you were this 'Old Man Winter,' who like, killed people for being rude."**

**_"That's _flattering." I mutter sarcastically.**

**"Well, some of them said you were 'carefree' and stuff, but those versions usually looked like blue elves or something."**

**My frown pulls tighter, mouth pulling to one side of my face. _Yeah,_ I'm a little offended.**

**"Some even said you were like an artist, going around painting all the leaves white."**

**"Nah," I say, shaking my head, "I think that's what the autumn guy does."**

**"There's an autumn guy?" he asks stopping in front of his door. It's night out, and there'd be no point in me coming in. Sandy's bound to make his appearance soon.**

**"There's someone for almost everything. We usually just stay away from each other."**

**"Why?"**

**I'm quiet for a moment, thinking of the best way to phrase it.**

**"It's… complicated," I answer, pursing my mouth for a second. "I think it's just better that we don't bother each other. Too much could get knocked outta whack."**

**"So, you don't talk to each other _at all?"_**

**"No, not usually."**

**"But… if you don't talk to each other, and people can't see you, who do you talk to?"**

**No one.**

**_Not usually._**

**I don't say anything, but I'm certain my face gives it away. He studies me for a minute, then softly says, "Sounds kind of… lonely, Jack."**

**I take a breath and nod a little. "It kind of is. But it's okay."**

**He sends a short cloud of steam from his nose, not quite satisfied.**

**"Well," I say quickly, glancing at his door, "Sandy's probably on his way, so you should get to bed, kiddo. We got more fun to have in the morning."**

**He opens his mouth to protest, but I rocket into the air before he can say anything. **

**I land softly on his rooftop, give it a minute, then look over the edge.**

**He went inside. I feel kind of bad. My knees bend, and I leap into the air again.**

**_How have you held up all these years?_ Tooth asked. **

**I can't seem to let people think that I'm anything but fun-fun-happy-fun all the time. I don't know what it is. I'm not good at understanding things like that.**

**I pace along the spine of someone's roof, twirling my staff between my fingers. Some sweet-smelling smoke wafts from the chimney, and I vaguely wonder what kind of wood they're burning.**

**They'd never realized that I'd forgotten my family. Until the event with Pitch, Tooth and the other Guardians never realized I'd been completely alone, with no friends or family or even memories for three hundred years. It wasn't their fault, I know. But I still haven't been able to tell them just _how bad_ it was sometimes. **

**I look up at the Moon. It always seems to soothe me. I take a breath in and out my nose.**

**No. I don't even like thinking about it.**

**Thin strands of dreamsand start to sprawl across the sky. I smile a little. As far as Burgess is concerned, the whole world is falling silent.**

**Except…**

**I narrow my eyes, squinting towards movement that just caught my eye. A few streets down, a single figure is still outside, walking down the street.**

**It looks… vaguely familiar…**

**"…Elle?" I murmur.**


	5. Chapter 4 (Caught)

_**Innocence**_

_**Sunk the glow and drowned in covers,**_

_**Sent for all your absent lover's things**_

_**Sheepish wolves**_

_**Looking lived-in, eating buttons**_

_**Wink, just don't put your teeth on me**_

I take a deep breath through my nose, letting the cold stab into my sinuses. I feel a little lightheaded as I let it out again, a short puff of steam wafting through the air. I think back to when I was a kid, breathing steam and thinking to myself that hey, I'm just like a dragon.

_**Go on…**_

Or when I would put two fingers to my lips and take a breath, letting it go like cigarette smoke. Of course, I never developed any interest in actually smoking, despite what Granma insisted every time she caught me in the act. I remember other times, pulling my head straight back and pretending I was the engine of a train. Sometimes, when I was alone, I'd even make the whistle sound. Why not.

_**Accidents**_

_**Let the evening in the back door,**_

_**Filled the room, ceiling to the floor.**_

_**Beat backbones**_

_**Grazed the poem and made it strange**_

_**I wasn't born to be a skeleton.**_

The cold has changed. It snowed last week, but it was completely different. The air had been wet, sharp, stinging. Now, it's a dry, soft chill. It's much more inviting, much more pleasant on the skin. 

_**Go on…**_

It takes a very conscious effort to not sing along, thinking of scenes from old cartoons with yowling cats and thrown tin cans. I crane my head back to look at the stars. They always seem clearer and brighter in the winter.

_**Go on,**_

_**Grab your hat and fetch a camera!**_

_**Go on,**_

_**Film the world before it happens!**_

_**Go on,**_

_**Grab your hat and fetch a camera!**_

_**Go on!**_

_**Film the world before it happens.**_

Snowflakes start to make their descent. It always gives me a sort of pleasant anxiety, the feeling that I'm witnessing the beginning of something grand and happy. I vaguely wonder where the snow is coming from without a cloud in the sky, but weirder things have happened. At least it's not raining frogs.

_**Jealous orchards,**_

_**Sky is falling out the ceiling**_

_**While I'm tucking fibs into a cookie jar,**_

_**Reverie,**_

_**It's useless searchin' in the cupboards**_

_**When everything you have is on your back**_

I pull my scarf snug to my neck as I pass the Burgess Statue. Thaddeus stands stout in the snow, one arm outstretched towards who-knows-what and one arm around his wife. Their little girl clings to her mother's waist, while their son faces away from them all, crouched with a rifle. I run my fingers over the lettering as I pass it, fingertips gliding smoothly over the iced brass.

_**Go on…**_

I take a seat at one of the picnic tables, shoving a thin layer of snow off of it. Snow glitters in oranges and yellows under the streetlights all over town, seeming to glow faintly. I look up at the trees and see ribbons of the colors reflected inside icicles. Streetlights always remind me of Dad.

_**Go on,**_

_**Grab your hat and fetch a camera,**_

_**Go on!**_

_**Film the world before it happens**_

My gaze lifts to the Moon as I lay across the seat.

_**Go on,**_

_**Grab your hat and fetch a camera!**_

_**Go on!**_

_**Film the world before it happens—**_

_"Dad, look! The Moon's following us!" _

_**Go on,**_

_**Grab your hat and fetch a camera,**_

_**Go on,**_

_**Film the world before it happens…**_

What else would a five-year-old assume? No matter how far we drove, the Moon was always right there. It was a logical conclusion.

_**Film the world before it happens…**_

I sigh and send yet another curl of steam out into the air. Who knows when I'll finally be able to sleep? Here I am, out in a perfectly still night, Panic! cooing in my ears, and it feels like my eyelids couldn't be further apart.

_**Film the world before it happens…**_

_**Film the world before it happens…**_

My eyelids brush together for a moment, and suddenly I'm in the air.

_Up!_

I cheer and woop as I fly through the sky, wind whipping at my face. I soar in high arcs—breezing through clouds, straight out into the heavens— and steep dives, slicing through the air and sending my stomach into a giddy panic.

_Faster!_

I have to go further. Get as far as possible. Need to leave all the dreariness and redundancy behind. Can't give it time to drag me down. The Moon grins fiendishly—the night is young, and the world is mine.

Almost.

_Almost._

_Snap!_

A yank and I'm freefalling. A clasp on my ankle. The chain is pulling me down. I will myself to go up again, to flee and be free, but I can't fly anymore. Gravity will have its way with my beautiful night.

_Down!_

I don't flail. I don't fight. Heart caught in my throat, I can only watch as the ground comes closer, rushing towards me like a nearly-forgotten friend. My stomach shivers with cold and begs me to stop it.

Down. 

_Down._

_Up!_

Bounce. I just bounce off the ground. Straight into the air again. I'm not flying anymore, though. Just up, up, up, mind blank save for a sense of _well this was unexpected._ Hundreds of feet into the air, I feel my hair and clothes suspended in zero gravity for a moment as I transition between up and down. My stomach gives a lurch and I'm falling again.

_**She says she's no good…**_

Jamie. What's Jamie doing here?

_**…With words, but I'm worse…**_

No, Jamie, quit prodding my arm.

_**…Barely stuttered out a joke—**_

Where's Sophie?

_**—of a romantic, stuck to my tongue…**_

Dang it, you left her alone, didn't you?

_**…Weighed down with words too overdramatic**_

I'm not kidding! Stop jabbing me!

_**Tonight it's "it can't get much worse"**_

You're gonna make me call your mom, aren't you?

_**Versus "No one should ever feel like—"**_

_**I'M TWO QUARTERS AND A HEART DOWN**_

_**AND I DON'T WANNA FORGET HOW YOUR VOICE SOUNDS**_

I awake with a start, popping straight up.

_**These words are all I have, so I write them,**_

_**So you need them just to get by!**_

Pause.

For the love of God, pause. That's the last song I need blasting me awake.

Oh, God. The Sun. It's morning. My whole body's chilled, partially numb, reminding me I slept in the snow. My back reminds me I fell asleep on a freaking picnic table, nonetheless.

Why can't my body seem to understand when I do and don't want to sleep? Normally, I'd be wandering around for an hour or two. I completely konked out. I wasn't even tired.

"Ma'am?"

Startled, my head whips around. A man stands just short of the bench.

A policeman.

A not-so-very-happy policeman.

_Crud._

"Ma'am, you _are _aware of Pennsylvania state curfew laws, aren't you?"

"Yes," I say, guiltily biting my lip.

"And what exactly were you doing in violation of those laws?"

I sigh ashamedly, rubbing the side of my face. "Taking a walk."

"Taking a walk," he repeats flatly. I can't force myself to look any higher than his badge, which reads _McCull._ He's writing something down on an unsettlingly long pad.I hope to the high sky that's not a ticket.

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes, and I went for a walk and accidentally fell asleep here."

"Are you giving me a ticket or something?" I ask anxiously, staring at my hands as my fingers fumble stupidly over each other. I've never been in trouble with the law before. I was caught for this same thing once before, but I got away with a warning. I haven't even gotten my first traffic ticket yet. He's probably going to call my grandparents—

"No, ma'am, I don't think that'll be necessary, but I'll have to notify your parents."

Knew it. He may as well have put a clamp on my head.

"They're, ah… not in town right now."

"There's no one at home?"

Yeah, I'd be more comfortable in a clamp.

"No, not until later on today."

I hear him blow a breath through his nose, but other than that he's quiet. I chance a look at him to see he's studying me with a furrowed brow, thinking intently about something.

"All right," he says finally, rolling up a sleeve to look at his watch. _"Technically,_ I didn't catch you in violation of curfew, since it ended about two hours ago."

My brain _melts _with relief. I release a breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding.

_"Thank you," _I breathe, trying to force every ounce of gratitude I can into the phrase.

"Do you need a ride home?"

"Oh, uh… no thank you, sir, I was… gonna go get coffee."

Well, I hadn't thought of it before now, but it seems like a good idea.

He nods and rips a piece of paper from his pad, handing it to me. "Consider this your final warning, ma'am," he says as he returns to his patrol car. "Third strike and you're out."

He's a block down the street before I understand.

_McCull. _He was the same policeman who caught me last time.

How embarrassing. 

I look at the paper he handed me. My heart jolts for a moment as I read it, thinking that _oh no, he gave me a ticket anyway._ But he checked a little box on it that says "warning," not the one that says "ticket." I didn't know it worked like that.

I groan out loud. The steam makes me realize how cold it still is, and I immediately shiver and draw my legs to my chest. I wrap my arms around my knees, crumpling the warning in a fist, and try to heat them with friction. I draw my head into the ball I've formed and exhale onto my thighs, trying to make a pocket of warmth to thaw my face. I can't feel my nose or my ears. Even my throat's cold.

_Wait, my throat—?_

I expose my face again and look on the snow-covered ground, around and beneath the bench I fell asleep on. That's all that's there. Snow.

I draw into my ball again and huff. My scarf's gone.

_Ridiculous,_ I think, setting my chin on my knees. _Who just comes across a teenager sleeping in the snow and steals their scarf?_

I was wearing my favorite one, too. It was as long as I am tall, striped with black and white. I liked how it went with my hoodie—this white one I got for my last birthday, with black sleeves and a collar that grows into a hood.

I glance at the sky. It's mostly a pale blue, but the eastern side is a pallid, post-dawn yellow. I can still look straight at the sickly white Sun without hurting my eyes. I'm prompted to fish my cell phone out of my pocket and check the time.

8:27. _Greeeeeaat._

Could be worse, I guess. At least I got some sleep. I wait until the screen goes dark again, then look at my reflection. I carefully wipe the smeared eyeliner into line, and run my fingers through my hair. I wish I'd brought my purse out with me, so I could use an actual hairbrush. Then again, if I had, whoever-it-was might've taken more than my scarf.

Ah, well. I won't be entering in any beauty pageants before a shower, but I decide I look good enough to get some coffee. Only a really good guesser might suppose I spent the night outside.


End file.
